


all flesh will perish together

by foreground



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, M/M, Masturbation, Religion Kink, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, alt title: You Construct Intricate Rituals Which Allow You To Touch The Skin Of Mark Lee, lapslock for the aesthetic lol sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreground/pseuds/foreground
Summary: donghyuck knows about idolatry, about false gods, the golden calf burnt and dissolved and drunk - but he sees minhyung in the stained glass of the cathedral and wonders if this is the closest he’ll ever get to god.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 10
Kudos: 147





	all flesh will perish together

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a one-off thing i wrote based off [the markhyuck season's greetings 2020 pictures](https://twitter.com/transhyuck/status/1206117270646329344) that would not stop bothering me until i finished it, enjoy!

donghyuck’s fantasies were going to eat him alive.

the water drips down his collar every sunday morning as his fingers pass from his forehead down to his chest, left and then right, disappearing into fabric as he genuflects to the cross, its eyes perpetually shut. he takes his communion like everyone else, kneels and stands when he’s told to, and tries to ignore the images that flash in his mind when they speak of sin, of desire and indulgence. years of boarding school and weekly mass haven’t done wonders for his disposition, to his parents’ dismay, but he’s learned to be subtle when noticing how a uniform clings to one student a little tighter than another, doesn’t bite his lip anymore when the seraphim touches isaiah’s mouth and absolves him of his sins.

he doesn’t particularly pay attention to soccer practices, not in the way other students do. he props his chin on his hand, watching contentedly as the boys run by, rippled and sweating, their captain among them. lee minhyung, the adonis, the _good_ catholic boy. he was the ideal, both to become and to have. tall, charming, eyes that crinkled when he smiled or laughed, and donghyuck wants him so bad it burns the back of his throat like the first time a boy in the dormitory smuggled in a flask of whiskey.

there had been boys before, of course. there had been na jaemin, who never cared about getting caught, running his hand up and down donghyuck’s thigh under cover of the long biology table, his touch so unbearable, so carelessly teasing that donghyuck shoved him out of his room the seventh night he showed up, telling him _if this is just a game to you, i don’t want any of it_. then there was lee jeno, the dashing, bright-smiled striker on the soccer team, who broke down and cried after they kissed behind the athletics building, begging donghyuck not to tell anybody, because you know what they do to boys like us, and donghyuck did know, so they never kissed again. but none of them compared to minhyung. he had briefly considered trying out for soccer just to be one of the teammates who were so casual with him, ruffling his hair or clapping him on the arm, unaware of how donghyuck has never felt holier than when he touches another boy’s skin.

he doesn’t tell the priests any of this at confession. he stares at the screen and vaguely fashions something about skipping friday penance, about taking god’s name in vain, and decidedly does not mention thoughts of minhyung in priest getup, rosary wrapped tight around donghyuck’s neck as he fucks him in the church kitchen during sunday mass, voice low as he orders him to repent, because he’d rather not have to explain to his parents how he got summarily expelled from boarding school in the middle of the trimester.

he knows about idolatry, about false gods, the golden calf burnt and dissolved and drunk - but he sees minhyung in the stained glass of the cathedral and wonders if this is the closest he’ll ever get to god. when he catches a glimpse of minhyung in the showers after p.e., when replaying the sight over and over in his head gets too much for him and he shoves his hand into his pajama bottoms later that night, he wonders if this is what worship is supposed to feel like. salvation in the form of minhyung’s thigh touching his as they squeeze into the pews for mass. this is my body which will be given up for you, this is the chalice of my blood, and when he shucks the covers from himself and releases, panting into the darkness and empty air, he doesn’t know if the feeling that courses through his veins is guilt or pleasure. his fantasies were going to eat him alive, but who was he to stop them? every boy he’d ever kissed, ever touched, ever looked at for longer than a second would inevitably grow up, marry some nice girl and have two and a half nice children in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, and donghyuck would be left holding the bag. he would attend wedding after wedding, dodge question after question about the absence of a ring on his finger, and sit in front of the crucifix church after church after fucking church thinking _why, why don’t i want this too? worldly desires be damned, can i want just one thing on this earth that won’t kill me in the end? why did they tell me i could resist the devil when all i hear is it howling, scratching, begging to be set free?_

but donghyuck wants what he wants, and none of it involves nice girls in nice houses, so he rolls over like all the nights before and after and pushes his hand into his underwear again, desperately trying and failing to quell the devil — or the god — inside him by feeding it his own body and blood, every gasp muffled in a pillow and lingering glance at an exposed strip of skin, but neither of them are ever satisfied. when he’s made a mess of himself, laid himself bare on the altar of his bed, it’s minhyung’s face in his head, and he shuts his eyes and touches his mouth.

“did you want to play with us?” a voice comes from above him.

he looks up and minhyung cocks his head to the side, a small, polite smile on his lips. donghyuck feels his own go dry, but he closes them, willing away words best left unsaid, desires quietly swept off into the ocean and left to sink.

“no, but thanks.”

minhyung returns to the field, and donghyuck props his chin on his hand and watches the boys — watches minhyung, distant and beautiful — go by.

**Author's Note:**

> fellas, is it gay to desire the touch of mark lee?
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/transhyuck) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/transhyuck)


End file.
